Something New is Growing
by xxJillian-Elizabethxx
Summary: "Archibald always felt as if there was magic inside the garden, and he believed it was because of Lilias. She put her heart and soul into bringing the garden to life. Now, it seemed she was one with the garden, as though she had truly given her own spirit to the flowers to help them grow." musical-verse


**A/N: Hey there, I've been on such a Secret Garden kick the past few months, especially the musical (but also the book, and the '93 movie), and finally decided to make an attempt at writing these two.**

 **Maybe I'll do more in the future? – but I definitely have some Poppins stuff to work on before I can think about that.**

 **Anywho, hope you enjoy!**

 **Please drop me a comment if you think I did these two justice (and if you'd want to see more of me in this fandom!)**

 **– Jillian xx**

* * *

Misselthwaite Manor was known in society for its parties, particularly its fancy dress ball – held annually to celebrate the new year – hosted by the late Lady Craven for over 25 years, and continued in her honour two years since.

However, the first of the new century marked the much awaited first celebration to be hosted by the new Lady of the estate.

Young couples danced and laughed gaily in the large ballroom – a string quartet playing off to the side – as some of the men hid from the festivities (and their wives) in the refuge of the adjoining drawing room for whist.

This is where the Baroness presently believed her husband to be, whilst she stood in the foyer – anxiously tapping a jewel-encrusted shoe on the marble floor – having abandoned her own party.

"It's after 11, my dear," the master's comforting voice shook her from her daze, "they're not coming."

He twined his arms around her tiny waist, pulling her as close to him as her petticoats would allowed.

"I know," she lamented, "I guess I just don't want to give up hope, Archie – I want to exchange forgiveness, in person."

She rested her head on her husband's shoulder in defeat.

"You're too forgiving, my love."

The declaration was lost on Lilias.

"She always loved balls – the dressing up, the dancing-"

"A chance to be embraced by men besides her husband?" Archibald cut her off with a gentle squeeze and a little laugh.

"Oh, you wicked thing!"

He wasn't wrong

"I doubt she'll truly stay away forever, Lily."

The Baroness let out a frustrated sigh as she freed herself from Archibald's hold and began pacing.

"Well, India is far away," he added as an after-thought.

"The evening, the music, the food, the fresh Yorkshire air, the prospect of her child being born here at home instead of the colony – I tried everything to entice her, and she still didn't have the decency to write me herself!"

Archibald let his wife's musings play out, hoping it would ease her mind to speak her troubles.

"You know what Albert's letter said: 'We'd love to see you – but Rose has been difficult as of late, what with her condition.' Her condition, ha! She's been difficult her entire life! I'm sure she's now even more difficult with a child she doesn't want literally feeding off her."

Archibald was clearly behind on the latest from his wife's family by his exclamation at her last statement.

"But when was the child born?"

"I most certainly left _that_ letter on your desk!"

"The one in the library or the drawing room?"

"The one in your study," she emphasized each syllable, "where you receive all your important papers."

"I received no letter postmarked from Captain Lennox! Why didn't you tell me in person?"

Thankfully, there was a playful tone to their disagreement.

"I thought you saw it. Besides, you were in Vienna when I first heard, and I was already visiting with Claire in London when you returned. That's why I left it for you!"

"No wonder it got lost – Pitcher had left me a stack of work in there once I returned from the continent."

The couple calmed down, but there was still some anxiety in Lily's eyes.

"You're still thinking about Rose, are you?" coaxing her to continue sharing her concerns.

"She hasn't written a word to me since our engagement celebration, and that was nearly ten months ago. And even then she seemed more interested in talking with your brother than with me."

She hadn't realised that, while she was going on about her sister, Archibald had begun leading her into the library for a bit more privacy and silence, removed from the din of the party which echoed through the main corridor.

The two sat down on a settee in front of the crackling fireplace. With none of the electric lights on, the couple allowed the dull glow to relax them. They were soon relieved of not just the tensions of the previous conversation, but of residual stress that came with planning such an extravagant event.

Placing a soft kiss upon his lady's brow, "I'm sorry I've caused you so much grief, my love."

"Archie, what have I told you of such apologies?" Lilias sweetly dismissed.

She took his hands in her own, meeting his sad eyes.

"True love is putting someone else's happiness before your own. Rose was only thinking of herself – her own image – when she told me not to marry you. But when we discussed such, you suggested ending our relationship so I wouldn't have to lose my sister."

Lilias kissed his hands, then touched her forehead to his own, "that showed how much you truly loved me: you cared more about my feelings than your own," kissing him briefly, passionately.

"I did not lose my sister the day I married you, even if that's when she stopped speaking to me; I lost her the day she left for finishing school – the day she learned high society was her true calling. She may have just had a baby, but she isn't a mother; She doesn't have an ounce of compassion in her. Rose is not a family-woman, she is an actress disguised in diamonds and pearls, hiding under her fiery locks, drowning in a sea of mink and silk and chantilly lace; she is no better than a peacock, who expects the world to bow to her."

Another baritone laugh came from her husband – both equally amused by Lily's last description of her sister – and both equally willing to ignore the unequivocal truth of it.

"Did Captain Lennox mention the child's name in his letter?" Archibald persisted, hoping to lift Lilias's spirits.

"Her name is Mary." She beamed at the thought of meeting her niece, already imagining how the child will enjoy Yorkshire.

"So your brother-in-law is living with Rosemary now, eh? That's good luck, isn't it?"

"Well," Lilias began with a smile which seemed to say _you're so cute when you try to talk flowers with me_ , "moreso remembrance."

Archibald listened attentively, even though he had known he was wrong. Poetry may have been one of his wife's favorite passions (second only to horticulture), but he was the expert, growing up with more books than people to keep him company. He wanted to avert their conversation to something that brought life back into her musical voice.

"However," she continued, "Lilies-of-the-Valley are considered Celtic good-luck charms."

A broad smile grew on her husband's face, "then I guess I truly am the luckiest man in the world to have you as my wife."

He lent in to kiss Lilias, but she stood up, not taking notice.

"Technically, my name is one of two anglicism of the Scottish-Gaelic Lili, with an I (the other obviously being Lily with a Y), thus 'Lilias' refers to both flowers – the Lily and the Lily-of-the-Valley – but usually Lilias is used for the latter, despite the literal translation be-"

Her rant was muffled by her husband's lips on her own, Archibald having stood up as the pace of her speech started quickening.

Pulling away, he shook his head in mock-disappointment, "you know far too much about flowers."

This made his wife's eyes widen with an idea.

"Let's go out to our garden!"

Archibald was shocked by the suggestion.

"Lilias Craven, the garden is thoroughly dead this time of year! You're mad if you think I'd willingly go out in the middle of the night during a Yorkshire winter."

Lilias persisted.

"Oh, _please_ , Archie," she continued with a pout, "the winter doesn't make nature any less magical," taking his hand, "especially not if we're there together."

The accused couldn't suppress a light-hearted laugh at her determination.

"I would have to love you a lot to agree to go out at this hour – _in the freezing cold_."

Lilias offered him a cheeky giggle in response; leaning up to leave a lingering kiss upon his lips, "lucky for me, you do."

Lilias adored her private garden, hidden in plain sight, just where the edge of the estate meets the wild moors. The only thing alerting the outside world to life inside the stones encircling the magical sanctuary was an old oak tree towering above the wall. It stood grandly in the centre of the garden, guarding all the life within.

The Baroness would frequently perch herself upon one of the lower-hanging boughs of this tree; this branch, which had grow into a shape perfect for resting upon, was now covered with roses Lilias had trained to grow upon it. She could sit here for hours reading, sketching, resting, all while watching over her whole garden like a guardian angel.

This branch was where she and Archibald chose to pass the rest of the evening, having escaped their party.

"The stars look extra bright tonight, as though shining down especially for us," Lilias gasped, looking up at the night sky.

But Archibald wasn't looking at the heavens, he was looking at the woman at his side, taking in her image in the pale moonlight, memorizing her.

There was something about her that always made him feel an overwhelming sense of comfort. His whole life he had been spurned by society for being different, deformed; being regarded as a monster made him accustomed to retreating from social gatherings.

However, around Lilias – his wife, his love, his Lilias – he wasn't afraid anymore; he was content. She made the gossip fade away. She was an inspiration to him; she didn't care about the talk around their marriage. She ignored the criticism and incredulity she received for contending to love a wealthy man with a crooked back for love.

"How could you possibly love him?" they would scorn. She would disdain these comments – she was madly in love with Lord Archibald Craven; nothing around them mattered as long as she was in his arms.

The bond they shared was something Archibald never dreamed he could find, and he would never let her go, ever.

"Oh, Archie, my love," she sighed, catching him still staring at her in wonder and amazement.

A comfortable silence fell between husband and wife as they allowed themselves the simple joy of each other's company.

Archibald always felt as if there was magic inside the garden, and he believed it was because of Lilias. She put her heart and soul into bringing the garden to life. Now, it seemed she was one with the garden, as though she had truly given her own spirit to the flowers to help them grow.

"I hope that our children will love the garden as much as we do, my dear Lily," Archibald cooed.

The woman in question pulled back a bit from her husband's embrace.

"Well, it won't be long until we get to share it," Lilias hinted, bringing one hand to her midsection and placing her free one upon her husband's cheek.

Archibald couldn't do much but smile a stupid grin in response. He opened his mouth to speak, but found himself lost for words at what she was implying. Instead, he lent in to give her a rather passionate kiss.

"And I am sure he'll love the garden as much as we do," Lilias assured her husband, her delicate laugh filling the open skies.

"Or she," Archibald corrected.

"Perhaps it's mother's intuition," Lilias shook her head, "but I have a feeling it will be a boy – our son."

Tears of joy start playing in the corner of Archibald's eyes. Never could he have thought of a more perfect life.

As the couple held each other tight, twelve bells peeled through the moors, followed by faint cries from the long-forgotten masquerade at the manor.

"Happy new year, my love." Archibald kissed his wife again.

Lilias smiled into the kiss, positively beaming at her husband when they parted.

"I have a feeling it's going to be a truly blissful one for us."


End file.
